Beautiful Things
by Jimperbam
Summary: Extended scene for No Rest For The Wicked. Dean muses about the one beautiful thing in his life.


SO MANY IDEAS. SO MANY FEELS. Yes, this WAS after watching this episode a billion times. Just fluff, you know you like it. xD Fun fact: I loathe present tense, but I just felt like it would work best for this fic.

Disclaimer: Why would I want to publicly admit I don't own the gods that are the Winchesters?

I'm not one to literally stop and smell the roses. I enjoy the little things: a pretty girl, a cold beer, the roar of my baby's engine, some good music. Doesn't take a lot to please me, but I wouldn't exactly call any of those things beautiful.  
>There's not much beautiful about living room to room of seedy motels, eating fast food for every meal, or being splattered with blood, dirt, or any other lovely grime that tends to be attracted to us. I wouldn't trade the life for the world, but it does lack a certain "These Are A Few Of My Favorite Things" theme.<br>Now, though...I guess I'm learning to see the beautiful things in life with only hours of life to go.  
>For example, what's happening right now. Loud, off-key, slightly out of sync with the music, and the most beautiful thing I've ever heard. Sam hasn't smiled much lately, but I can hear the grin in his voice.<br>That smile, too. He's always looked like a little kid, but when he pulls one of those his eyes light up and it's like he's never seen anything worse than a plate full of vegetables. There's nothing I want to see more now than that smile, because I know it'll be gone for a while.  
>But now of all times, I can't think of a single witty thing to say.<br>"Sam, you ever thought of cuttin' your hair?" I inquire out of the blue.  
>"What?" He turns to me, amused. Alright, a little one, but I'm after something more substantial.<br>"Your hair. I mean, it's a wonder Dad never tied you down and buzzed it. How come you let it get so long?"  
>"I...I don't know," he half-laughs. "I like it like this. Why?"<br>I shrug casually. "Just came to mind."  
>"Fine. Why do you eat so much?"<br>"Well, ya see, it takes a lot of fuel to be this sexy all the time-"  
>Sam giggles. It draws forth a grin from a happy place I didn't know I still had. It reminds me of a time long ago when I would read him the comic pages from the newspaper and he would get so cracked up over the dumbest jokes. Back then...well, back then life was still a waiting game-waiting for Dad to come back-but at least then I felt I had all the time in the world.<br>That _we_ had all the time in the world.  
>I wasn't lying when I told Sam he's my weak spot. As if it wasn't obvious. I didn't need to think twice about making that deal to bring him back. Maybe that makes me selfish, but I don't care. At the moment I would have given anything for just one more day.<br>Still, it torments me to know he'll be on his own now. Bobby and Ellen will be there, sure, but they'll never be able to take my place. I'm his big brother. My entire life has been about making sure he's okay. Who would do it now? What would happen to him?  
>"Dean? What is it?"<br>I glance at the spedometer and drop the thirty miles back to sixty. I can't bring myself to answer right away. Just need another line to put that smile back on his face...  
>"I was...I was just remembering-that time with the rabbit's foot. That whole thing is still hilarious to me."<br>Sam makes a face. "It would be to you, you weren't the one with the terrible luck!"  
>I snicker. "Sammy, you lost you shoe. Down a sewer grate."<br>"That was definitely the low point," he sighs.  
>"I thought the low point was when Bela shot you."<br>"No, you know, I've been shot before. I've never had my shoe eaten by a sewer. *That* was just ridiculous. And you know what else is ridiculous?"  
>"What?"<br>"That you came out of that with the notion that you're Batman."  
>I don't even think about the cackle that escapes. "What can I say? I got the looks, the car, the skills, and the sidekick-"<br>"But that makes me Robin! I don't want to be Robin!"  
>Sam pouts and I laugh again. "There's nothin' wrong with Robin. Well, besides the fact that he's lame and totally has the hots for Batman."<br>"Don't even _go_ there, Dean."  
>Now I'm the one in a good mood, and even though it feels nice, that's not what I'm after. "Fine. You pick a memory, then."<br>He stares into the darkness and ponders. In the silvery light of the moon, I see him lean his head back and smile. "Remember that time we went fishing?" he murmurs as though reliving it. "It was after we cleared that cabin by Lake Superior. It was right in the middle of summer, so we got some beer and a thing of strawberry ice cream and just fished from nine to nine."  
>"Yeah, I think I do remember. We catch anything?" I remember perfectly. I just want to hear him tell it.<br>"No," he laughs, "not really. I got something for a minute, but when I tried to take it off the hook it bit me and I accidentally knocked you into the water trying to get it off."  
>"Oh, <em>did<em> you? I hope I got you back."  
>"Yeah, you yanked me in as well. We swam for four-some hours." Sam closes his eyes, clearly savoring the memory. "I can't belive we even got in that lake after finding the body in there."<br>"Hey, when was the last time we let a little thing like an undiscovered murder victim stop us from having fun?"  
>Another laugh. "Very true."<br>It's just how I want it: light, happy, positive, not thinking about what's coming in the next ten hours. I can almost convince myself that we're just passing time to the next motel.  
>"You know what?" I strike the wheel with inspiration. "When we're done with this, we're going to Florida."<br>"Yeah?" Sam glances furtively at me.  
>"Hell yeah! And we'll take a month off to do nothin' but screw around. We'll hunt, of course-beer and girls. And at the end of the day, it'll just be you and me on the beach drinking too-warm bottles and watchin' the sun set."<br>Why the hell did I not think of that before? Now with ten hours left I get the good ideas. Figures.  
>I can picture the vacation like it's already happened. I'll be tan and Sam will burn like always. The most we'll wear for an entire month is trunks and an occasional T-shirt. The girls will swarm like sharks on a feeding frenzy and I'll be too drunk to remember any of their names. Then Sam will drag me back to the beachside condo and we'll rent a bad movie and watch it until we drop off only to wake up the next day and do it all over again. Each beautiful scene is like a knife in the heart. That vacation will never come and that knowledge stings with each breath.<br>"That sounds real nice, Dean," Sam says quietly, sincerely.  
>I'm not one for chick flick moments; I know if I let out the scream building in my chest, one of those will invariably follow. Maybe I could have kept it in had Sam not suddenly sounded so melancholy.<br>"Sam."  
>"Yeah?"<br>"I'm...I'm sorry, Sammy. I really am."  
>"There's nothing to be sorry about," he replies decisively. "Especially not with that vacation to look forward to."<br>I manage an ironic smile. It's not every day Sam shuts _me_ down like that. I want to make him understand that there's nothing we can do so maybe he'll take it better. But he has hope, and hope's a beautiful thing.  
>It's just that beautiful things seem to get shattered in the end.<p>

One day they WILL take that vacation if I have to write it myself. 8'C


End file.
